


Prequel

by achievewriting



Series: Power's Out [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Smut, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 23:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14248518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievewriting/pseuds/achievewriting
Summary: oh my god they were roommates(0.1)





	Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> [a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1263129610/playlist/2vmFN43vHlgm7VB5KExBQj?si=_iAx2n0CQ86sju4yVp4kQQ) it's a bit yeehaw but oh well

You like to think you and Trevor are good to your neighbours. ****

Neither of you play any instruments or have any pets, and you’re always mindful of the volume at which you play Mario Kart.

Right now, however, you’re sprinting through the halls of your apartment at near midnight, Trevor hot on your heels. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel sorry for your fellow residents, but the opportunity to challenge Trevor was too sweet to pass up. That, and you were too drunk to really care. You’d burst through the elevator doors with a  _“last one home’s a fucking dumbass,”_  and then you were gone.

Breathless, you reach the door and fumble with your keys for a split second. Feeling the lock click over before you can turn the handle, a body slams into you, pressing you to the door. You squeal, and Trevor laughs in your ear. “That wasn’t very fair.”

Despite your laughter, you’re hyper-aware of his breath on your neck, the pressure of his heaving chest on your back, his hands planted either side of your head. “Yeah, well,” you turn to face him with a grin, still pressed up against the door, “that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a dumbass.”

Facing him, you realise just how close he is, and when his gaze shifts from your eyes to your mouth the space between the pair of you seems to collapse into nothing. You can’t help but do the same, mesmerised by the way his tongue darts out to wet his lip.

“Then you’ll excuse me if I do something dumb.” He kisses you, not ungently, and the electricity that fills you takes you by surprise. Your eyes flutter closed, but he’s gone before you can kiss him back.

You’re breathless and your heart is racing, and it’s no longer from the sprint from the elevator. When you look at him again, there’s a question in his eyes. You answer it by pulling his face back to yours, covering his mouth with your own and knotting your fingers in his hair. There’s no hesitation - it’s with hunger that Trevor pins you to the door again, this time with his whole body. Your head hits the wood behind you in a way that might otherwise hurt, but you don’t feel it - all you can feel is Trevor. The way your mouths move together is clumsy, drunken and urgent; there’s teeth and the taste of vodka, but it only serves to drive you wild.

Trevor reaches blindly for the door handle, and the two of you tumble into the apartment. The sudden motion pulls you apart, and you find yourself gasping for air and stumbling backwards into the living room. You take the opportunity to rid yourself of your boots and coat, and Trevor tears off his own. There’s something distinctly adolescent about the excitement between you. In the soft glow of a lamp left on in the atrium, his eyes are dark and eager, and you can’t help but return his grin.

Even though you’d harboured feelings for Trevor from the day he moved in, it’s not like this is a long time coming. Most of the time it was something you could repress, other times you felt you were being so obvious you could die, but it had never been a  _thing_. But the Rooster Teeth Christmas party seemed different. You’d gotten drunk together before, but tonight Trevor had been  _touchy_. An arm around your waist here, a hand on your knee there, and little brushes of fingertips to the small of your back. You didn’t mind in the least, but it did make you nervous. You’d spent the first hour waiting for the penny to drop, to find out some strange joke was on you. So you drank, and Trevor drank with you, and when his affections continued you relaxed - reciprocated, even - and drank some more, until you were both shitfaced in that elevator.

You didn’t dare hope the night would end like this, but here you are.

You watch Trevor pull his jumper off before clearing the space between you in two strides to cup your face in his hands. There’s something predatory about the way he does so, and it makes your knees buckle.

He wastes no time in kissing you again. It’s a slow, heedy pace, until you take his bottom lip gently between your teeth and pull just a little. The tiny, breathy moan Trevor gives in response is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You want to do it again, just to hear that noise some more, but he walks you backwards until your calves hit the sofa, and you sit down with a soft thud.

When Trevor lands next you, you pull your legs up and under you, making leaning in easier as you kiss him again. You feel an arm wind around your waist, only to dip down to briefly squeeze the curve of your ass. His other hand tangles itself in your hair. His tongue makes a pass over your lip and you’re opening your mouth to him without a second thought.

You both take your time. Your movements are soft and lazy, the urgency gone but not the enthusiasm with which his tongue moves against yours. With roaming hands you caress his jaw, the dip of his shoulder, run your fingers through his hair.

A sober you would fight the nagging urge that forms. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you don’t know which, you’re the very opposite of sober, and you cave before you’ve even finished processing the thought. Your heart pounds as your hand begins a slow path down Trevor’s body. You think you’re being subtle, but before you even get to his stomach he shifts his hips and spreads his legs.

Heat pools in your belly. The denim is limiting, but the feel of Trevor’s erection through the thick fabric is wildly satisfying. At your touch his grip on your waist tightens, and he groans softly against your lips. Running your palm over his length, you trace teasing little circles in the fabric near the head of his cock. You continue for a minute or two, enjoying the little hums and gasps Trevor makes in time with your fingers. The fist in your hair tugs gently, pulling your face from his.

In the low light Trevor’s eyes are blown black and hooded, his lips swollen and parted in bated breath. He’s beautiful.

“Gonna make me come in my goddamn pants if you keep that up.” His voice is low and husky, but he’s grinning, albeit lopsided.

You laugh softly. “What are you, a two pump chump?”

“Me? No,” he rejects through a chuckle, bringing his lips to your ear and murmuring, “but I have been hard for you since we left the party.”

You suck in a small breath at his words. The laughter is gone from your voice when you say lowly, “Well, let me fix that for you.”

Trevor gives a half moaned “fuck yes” as his lips crash to yours. You cup his face and deepen the kiss as he unbuttons his jeans, lifting his hips to push the offending garments down his thighs. You don’t look just yet - your legs have grown numb underneath you and your body hurts from the way you’re twisted. You pull away and stand from the sofa, on a whim pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor. He watches you, or rather your chest, as you straddle his lap, close enough to his knees that you have space enough to do what he so desperately needs.

When you’re settled, you glance down. Trevor’s big, arched up to rest on his stomach. You’re immediately confronted with the thought of sinking down onto him and fucking you both senseless, and it makes you wet. But you’re clear headed enough to know there’s a line there somewhere, and that act is almost certainly over it.

Instead, you take his cock in your hand and set a slow pace, a firm grip. You watch him as you do so. Trevor’s eyes slip closed as he moans, brows knit and lips parted. You don’t resist the urge to lean forward and kiss them. He immediately deepens the kiss, one hand returning to your hair, the other moving to cover the hand pumping his cock. You let him guide you, forcing your strokes to quicken and your grip to tighten.

He coaxes your tongue into his mouth with his own, but when he starts to groan kissing becomes difficult. You give up and place a trail of open mouthed kisses from the corner of his lips to the base of his neck and back again, nipping softly here and there.

Trevor moves his hand from yours to grip your thigh, and you take the opportunity to wet your hand with saliva. You give him one easy stroke before gliding your thumb slick over the head of his cock. You take absolute delight in the way his hips buck and the way he throws his head back with a deep moan. You’re treated to another when you circle the little bundle of nerves at the seam of his shaft. With another pass of your thumb over his head, you go back to pumping him the way he showed you.

Trevor coming undone under your hands is one of the prettiest sights you’ve ever seen. He’s panting, his hand now fisted in his usually perfect hair, a film of sweat on his brow. There’s a near-constant string of moans and curses coming from his lips, your name among them, as his eyes go from watching you work his cock, to your face, to rolling back into his head. His hips now meet your hand on every stroke with a thrust of his own, and you know he’s on the edge. He tells you just as much. “Fuck, I’m close - oh,  _fuck_ , don’t stop.”

You’re nearly as worked up as he is, finding yourself involuntarily grinding into his lap. A whimper leaves your lips as you stroke him faster. “You gonna come for me, Trev?”

He nods furiously, eyes frantic and fixed on your face. Both of his hands now rest on each of your thighs, and he’s clutching hard enough to leave bruises. You tighten your hold on his cock a little more, and he’s done.

You cry out together when Trevor comes, spilling over your hand, his shirt. You work him slowly as he comes down from his peak, and do your best to commit the moment to memory. Spent, he collapses boneless into the sofa, chest heaving and cheeks flushed red.

You make sure he’s watching when you lift your hand and take your fingers into your mouth to suck them clean. You’re showing off a bit, but you love it. Trevor seems to as well. With a smirk, he pulls you to his chest and his hands return to your hair. Something in your chest gives a squeeze and you blush at the way he studies your face, his eyes glassy and his grin melting to something more gentle. “So beautiful,” he says softly, before he presses his mouth to yours. Something about the way he doesn’t care about the come on your lips makes your stomach flip, and the wetness grow between your legs.

As if he reads your mind, Trevor reaches down to palm gently at the crotch of your jeans. “You’re wet,” he states, blinking in surprise.

At his touch, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan. “That I am.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Good God, the will power it takes not to rip your pants off right there. A soft smile on your lips, you lean back in to kiss him briefly. “As much as I want that, Trev, I have a flight tomorrow morning.” You stroke his cheek, “I’ll survive.”

Trevor frowns a little, but he doesn’t press the matter. You make to stand up when he takes your hand in his. “Could you stay? Just for a bit?”

You blush. “You’re the cuddly type too, huh?” Instead of standing up, you climb off his lap into the cushions beside him. He lifts his hips to readjust his jeans before tucking himself away. You curl up into his side as he pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa to wrap it around your bare shoulders, followed by his arm.

Nothing more is said. Trevor presses a kiss to the top of your head before he settles further in. Between Trevor’s warmth and steady breathing, the alcohol in your system, and the fatigue of giving the best hand job in the world, you quickly find yourself relaxed enough to drift off.

You awake sometime later, the pain of sitting on your hip at a weird angle pulling you from your light sleep. Beside you, Trevor doesn’t stir. You extract yourself as slowly as you can, careful not to wake him, and place the blanket from your shoulders over his legs. Before you make for the hallway, you stop at the back of the sofa. You smile down at Trevor, who is completely out of it, and completely adorable in sleep, even if he’s drooling a little bit. You brush a strand of his hair back into place and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, dumbass.”


End file.
